Tell me, tell me, gently lady,
Many things I’d love to know,
Of my dear and tender mother,
Who departed long ago.
While she moved among the living
Were the days all bright and fair?
Did she dwell in happy sunlight
Or in dark clouds of care?
Was she beautiful like thee,
With thy voice of melody?
Did she love and cherish me?
Oh! tell me of my mother!
Gentle lady, let me know,
While she journeyed here below,
Was the world her friend or foe?
Oh! tell me of my mother!

Tell me, tell me, of my mother!
Is she roaming in the skies?
I’ve been dreaming all about her,
And awoke with tearful eyes:
She was bending o’er my pillow
In a deep and earnest prayer,
And her voice was like the breathing
Of the soft summer air.
Is the world so full of pain
That she will not come again,
Like a sunbeam on the rain?
Oh! tell me of my mother!
Does she know I’m here alone
While my early friends have gone
And my dearest memories flown?
Oh! tell me of my mother!